


Burn With Me

by fudgioam



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-The Battle of the Blackwater, Protective Sandor Clegane, Road Trip Through Westeros, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fudgioam/pseuds/fudgioam
Summary: When Sansa Stark declines the Hound's offer to help her escape King's Landing during the Battle of the Blackwater, Lady Jolenna Marbrand seizes the opportunity to leave politics behind and make a new life for herself. She should have known her gruff travelling companion would wreck her (admittedly not well-thought-out) plans.OrOf course, the Hound, notoriously afraid of fire, finds himself stuck with (and falling for) a girl whose house sigil is a tree on fire.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 25





	Burn With Me

Lady Jolenna Marbrand was about to die.

Well, she was sitting in a circle with the other ladies of the court of King’s Landing, holding one another’s hands and praying to the Seven to spare their lives. So perhaps all hope was not yet lost. 

Jolenna knew as a highborn woman, she was meant to be pious, dutifully whispering prayers for men fighting battles on her house’s behalf, but religion always seemed ridiculous to her. If the gods existed, why would they listen to a silly girl like her? Jolenna figured she’d learn if the gods were real after her death, not worrying about them until then. But perhaps the age-old question would be answered tonight.

Because the men she was supposed to pray for weren’t fighting in some far away war. They were defending the city where she currently sat, clutching the sweaty palms of the other highborn girls unlucky enough to live in the Red Keep. The Queen Regent herself sat among them, though on the opposite end of the room. But her presence was no surprise – these were her chambers after all. Jolenna squinted one eye open and peered over the bowed heads of the women to watch her. 

Cersei Baratheon. Formerly Lannister. Long golden hair tied in an elegant braid and her mouth turned almost permanently down in a frown. The Queen took a long gulp of wine and thrust her goblet toward a servant to be refilled. Her cold green eyes glared in their direction, but Jolenna was relieved it was not toward her. The victim of that toxic gaze was Sansa Stark.

The girl in question had her eyes closed obediently, hiding doe-like blue eyes. Her head bowed, letting red hair cascade over her sweet face. And it was sweet, Jolenna had to admit. Sansa Stark may have endured a long series of tragedies – with the worst yet to come – but she still had an intoxicating air of innocence. It was endearing, though Jolenna knew better than to speak to the daughter of a traitor. Since the beheading of Lord Eddard Stark, Sansa was shunned by everyone in the Red Keep. She was a hostage, a poison to anyone’s reputation who was bold enough to offer any semblance of kindness. For not only was she a bargaining chip for the kingdom, she was betrothed to King Joffrey Baratheon, a punishment Jolenna wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. She wouldn’t dare utter a treasonous statement aloud, but Joffrey was a cruel little boy with a lust for violence. And Sansa Stark was doomed to become his puppet.

“Sansa.” The assertive voice of the Queen echoed across the chamber, a bit louder than appropriate. “Come here, little dove.”

Sansa Stark opened her eyes and released the hands of her companions. She stood without a word and approached Queen Cersei. The circle closed again with the joining of hands, and the other women shut their eyes. As if the traitor’s poor daughter hadn’t been summoned by the notably drunk Queen. Not for the first time that evening.

Jolenna was sick of this. Though she was a lady in waiting at court, she was not a patient woman. How long did a battle take normally? If she were closer to her brother, she might have asked him one day. But he was ten years her senior, and while they had a familial fondness for each other, they were hardly confidantes. Ser Addam Marbrand was knighted and fighting as a sworn bannerman for the Lannisters before Jolenna was 11. He rarely returned home to Ashemark, and though they were both in King’s Landing now, their paths rarely crossed.

Gods, she wished she were still in Ashemark. The gorgeous weather by the sea in King’s Landing was paradise compared to the endless hills surrounding her lord father’s seat in the westerlands. But she’d take the view of the pathetic creek near their ancestral home over the glittering Blackwater Bay any day if it meant she didn’t have to deal with the political mind games of the capital. 

There was also the fact that King’s Landing was currently under siege by Stannis Baratheon’s ships in that scenic Blackwater Bay.

Jolenna grit her teeth as the constant ache of her right leg swelled into something sharp and impossible to ignore. Her performance of piety evidently came with a price. She mumbled an excuse to the girls in the circle and heaved herself to a standing position with difficulty, finding a lone chair to fall into without grace. The uncomfortable kneeling on the stone floor of the Queen’s welcoming chamber might make anyone sore. But Jolenna’s right leg was permanently damaged after a childhood sickness, and it left her with an incessant pain that more often than not made her walk with a limp. It had been part of her life for 15 years now, but she blamed it for most of her troubles.

When she was very young, Lady Jolenna Marbrand dreamed of marriage, like any highborn girl would. More specifically, Jolenna fancied herself the wife of Jaime Lannister, the handsome, golden-haired heir to the Warden of the West. He was good-looking, well-mannered, and of such a high position that every girl in the westerlands hoped to be his bride. But Jolenna was one of the few girls with an actual chance to achieve that dream. 

House Marbrand was one of the most loyal houses to the Lannisters: Jolenna’s lord father Damon Marbrand was well-acquainted with the Warden of the West and Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister. And her brother Addam was one of Jaime’s best friends growing up. Jolenna was too young to play with them, but the Lannister lion was always kind to her, even as his twin sister Cersei ignored her completely. 

And then she got sick. Jolenna didn’t remember much of her illness, as she was in and out of consciousness, but she woke with a sharp pain in her leg that faded to a persistent throb and then ultimately to something close to tolerable. The maester diagnosed it as a blood disease that ran its course. It took her a while to leave her room, to walk, to be fit for society again. By then Jaime went to King’s Landing to be knighted and then become a sworn shield of the Kingsguard. Men of the Kingsguard weren’t allowed to marry, and Jolenna blamed her illness for chasing away the man of her dreams.

But there was another Lannister man, the new heir to Casterly Rock, with the removal of Jaime from succession. His younger brother Tyrion Lannister, unkindly referred to as The Imp. Jolenna didn’t know Tyrion very well, but his reputation was that of a lecherous devil. The man was a dwarf with a terrible reputation, but he had the right name. Still Lord Damon Marbrand was on the fence about arranging the marriage of his only daughter with such a character. And then there was a war and Westeros had a new king in Robert Baratheon. Years after the dust settled, Lord Damon made up his mind, and Jolenna was sent to King’s Landing. But only a few months passed before she returned to Ashemark when the royal family marched north to Winterfell to visit the Starks after the death of Jon Arryn. 

Jolenna begged her father to stay in the westerlands. Perhaps she could wait for Lord Tyrion Lannister in Casterly Rock. A few months was plenty for her to recognize the constant danger of living in the Red Keep. The drunken King Robert hardly ruled the seven kingdoms: that responsibility was happily taken by a handful of simpering lords more than willing to stab each other in the back to further their own names. Jolenna wasn’t in the room where these activities took place but still she was alarmed. She felt she was being watched in every corner of the palace. She didn’t want to live like that anymore. But Lord Damon did not listen. So when the royal family returned to King’s Landing, so did Jolenna.

And they brought the Starks with them. Jolenna rarely saw Lord Eddard, and his daughters were both too young for Jolenna to appropriately socialize with. She found Lord Eddard to be a stoic presence in court, Lady Arya to be wild in a fun, unpredictable way, and Lady Sansa to be the perfect image of a proper highborn girl. Jolenna envied the way Sansa thrived in the capital. Jolenna didn’t dream of marriage anymore, and didn’t want to marry a king like Sansa. But she wanted to bloom like Sansa did, instead of feeling a constant nagging edginess, a certainty that she did not belong. It wasn’t even the sneers at her limp or an overheard joke about the man she might marry that ensured that. It was the toxic atmosphere itself that did not sit right in her lungs. As soon as she entered the city gates, she wanted to leave.

And now King Robert was dead, along with Lord Eddard. Arya was missing, and Sansa no longer blossomed. King’s Landing was under attack. And Jolenna was going to die in this horrible city.

Jolenna jolted back to reality when the door to the Queen’s chamber clanged open. Lancel Lannister, another blond – shock of shocks, entered in his full armor, panting as he approached his cousin, Queen Cersei. Jolenna blinked as she realized Sansa was no longer beside Her Grace, but she quickly located her speaking quietly to her handmaiden. The whole room gasped when the Queen stood furiously, shoving Lancel to the ground. Cersei found her youngest son, Prince Tommen, a boy of only eight years old, and took him by the hand, leading him out of the room.

The room seemed frozen for a moment. Were they allowed to be in the Queen’s chambers if the Queen had left? Where else could they go? And what news did Lancel bring to make her react so violently? Was the battle lost? Were Stannis Baratheon’s soldiers in the castle now, on their way to rape and murder them all?

A flash of red hair caught her eye, and Jolenna watched Sansa Stark slip out of the room while their guard, the dreadful executioner Ser Ilyn Payne, was distracted by Lancel’s fall. Jolenna couldn’t blame her – they were sitting ducks, waiting for their inevitable ruin and death. But she also had the right idea: why have an audience of other ladies watch her violent end? She’d rather bar herself in her own chambers. She would be harder to find on her own, and maybe they would do her the courtesy of killing her in her own comfortable bed. She ducked out of the room after only a brief hesitation.

Jolenna had the signature Marbrand copper hair color that stood out in a crowd, but Sansa Stark’s deep red tresses were even more impossible to miss as Jolenna followed her through the castle. She wasn’t stalking her on purpose – their chambers were located in the same part of the Red Keep. She watched the lithe redhead ascend the stairs to their shared tower when Jolenna heard heavy footsteps and ducked into an alcove. Maybe her death was inevitable, but Jolenna would prolong it if she could.

As the pounding steps neared, Jolenna chanced a glance around the stone wall and stifled a shout when she saw the massive form of Sandor Clegane, the King’s Hound. His armor was filthy from battle, and he took heaving breaths as his scarred face came into view. Burn marks covered the entire right half of his face, but those were not new. After more than a year in the bannerman’s company, they didn’t startle her anymore. Jolenna was not a short woman, but the Hound was still a foot taller than her, looming as he passed by her hiding place. He reeked of wine and ash, a noxious combination, and he stumbled as he went up the same stairs Sansa had just climbed.

Something felt incredibly wrong. Why wasn’t the faithful Hound by the King’s side? Why would he be drunk and inside the castle instead of the battlefield? Why would he head toward the chambers of the ladies in waiting? Jolenna felt a wave of nausea. Maybe in the face of certain loss and death, the Hound was indulging in one last lustful sin. Sansa was in danger!

Jolenna had no idea if she could stop a huge beast like the Hound, but she couldn’t stand by and let him ravage the poor Stark girl. She may be the daughter of a traitor, but she didn’t deserve a fate like that. As Jolenna crept up the stairs after the Hound, she wondered why she was so shocked that he could commit such a monstrosity. He always stood silently, indifferently, beside King Joffrey, carrying out the various cruel demands the King commanded. And many times they were incredibly violent. But what had he done of his own accord? Jolenna could only guess. And with the direction he was headed now, she was filled with dread.

Jolenna heard voices as she moved down the corridor. She could hear the Hound’s voice, deep but eerily calm, and Sansa’s, shaking with alarm. The words grew distinct as she got closer, and she spotted the Hound at Sansa’s door, his hulking frame filling the doorway.

“I’m going,” the Hound said.

“Where?” Sansa choked out.

There was a pause. “Someplace that isn’t burning. North might be… could be…”

“What about the King?” Sansa seemed calmer, more curious. To be honest, Jolenna was fascinated by the conversation as well. The Hound was a coward and abandoning ship? And telling Sansa all about it?

The Hound leaned against the door and pulled a cask from his belt. “He can die just fine on his own.” He took a long gulp of what Jolenna assumed was wine. “I could take you with me. Take you to Winterfell.” Jolenna had to slap a hand over her mouth. The Hound was going to abduct Sansa Stark? But no, he seemed… hopeful. He genuinely wanted to take the girl home to her family of her own free will. The Hound stepped further into the room. “I’ll keep you safe. You want to go home?”

Another long pause. “I’ll be safe here. Stannis won’t hurt me.”

Stupid girl, Jolenna thought to herself, and then she winced. Of course, it was ridiculous to assume the man laying siege to the city would spare her, but did she really have faith in the Hound?

“Look at me.” The Hound’s voice was sharp, and Jolenna heard Sansa let out a whimper. “Stannis is a killer. The Lannisters are killers. Your father was a killer. Your brother is a killer. Your sons will be killers someday. The world was built by killers, so you better get used to looking at them.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Sansa said, and the shake in her voice was gone. Jolenna wondered what the Hound looked like to make her say that with such certainty.

“No, little bird, I won’t hurt you.”

The Hound’s voice was so soft, Jolenna almost didn’t hear him. Then she scrambled down the stairs to her alcove hiding place when she heard footsteps... Heavy footsteps belonging to one person alone. Sansa Stark was not going to follow the Hound after all. 

Jolenna’s heart pounded as she pressed herself against the stone. A wild, fantastical idea possessed her. Before she knew it, the footfall was upon her, and her mouth opened of its own accord.

“Clegane.”

The Hound stopped and faced her with a scowl. Her words abandoned her as she looked up into his scarred face. With the way Sansa spoke to him, half of her imagined the vicious burn marks must have disappeared. But they were there, red and pockmarked and nearly melted from his skull. Jolenna stuck her chin out and didn’t look away from his grey eyes when he gave a huff of impatience.

“Take me with you.”

Jolenna watched surprise flash across his face before he grimaced in fury. “Whatever you heard had nothing to do with you, Marbrand.”

It had been a long time since anyone addressed her without the title of “lady”, and her intent burned even more furiously. “You have the capability to take someone out of the city with you. Your first choice turned you down. Take me.”

The Hound’s scowl deepened. “The last place I’m heading is west, girl. I won’t take you home.”

“I can find my own way,” Jolenna insisted. “Just get me out of King’s Landing.”

“You know I’m no knight. Where this assumption that I’m some chivalrous—”

“I’ll pay you.”

The Hound paused, grey eyes narrowing.

“Jewelry. You can sell it.” Jolenna swallowed. “Please.”

The Hound hesitated and then groaned. “As far as the second inn north of King’s Landing. Then you’re on your own.”

Jolenna nodded. “Agreed.”

The Hound followed her to her room, and Jolenna ignored the prickle of impropriety in the back of her skull that a man was in her chambers, and in the middle of the night, watching her gather a meager pack of belongings.

“Wear a hood,” the Hound told her. “Your hair will give us away.”

Jolenna doubted she was more conspicuous than the huge, scarred Sandor Clegane, but she obeyed, draping a traveling cloak around her shoulders and pulling a hood over her copper hair.

The castle was nearly empty, so they left the Red Keep without incident. The Hound’s horse, a sour beast called Stranger, was tied in the stable. There was one poor man guarding the place, and the Hound knocked him unconscious before he could be spotted. 

“Ever been on a horse before?” the Hound barked as he secured their bags on Stranger’s saddle.

“No,” Jolenna admitted.

“Perfect.”

Without ceremony, the Hound grabbed Jolenna by the hips and lifted her so she sat astride the horse, just behind the saddle. She stifled a shriek at the sudden movement and clung to the saddle’s edge, praying to the gods she didn’t believe in that she wouldn’t fall. The Hound climbed on the horse easily, settling in the saddle in front of her.

“Keep your hood up and hold on tight, girl,” the Hound said, as he grabbed the reins and steered the horse toward the door.

Jolenna didn’t need to be told twice. She snaked her arms around the Hound’s middle, her forehead pressed into his armored back. She shut her eyes as the horse began to trot and she jostled with the movement. She wondered how near to the battle they were with the smell of acrid smoke burning her nostrils and the mangled shouts of wounded soldiers greeting her. She didn’t dare to open her eyes. Her entire world was cool metal armor on her skin and the bounce of the horse under her legs.

Soon the screams quieted, and Jolenna smelled only the filth of the city. Even that shortly faded to the earthy smell of a forest. She opened her eyes and despite the dark she could see the mighty white barked trees that flagged either side of the well-beaten path.

“The Kingsroad,” she breathed. It was the first time she’d been on this path. She had no reason to travel north before.

“Aye,” the Hound grunted. “I told you I wasn’t going west.”

Jolenna didn’t respond. The Hound didn’t need to know that she had no intention of going west either. Her father at Ashemark would hardly welcome her with open arms. And then there was the small detail that the King in the North Robb Stark occupied those territories of the westerlands. She would be running from the peril of the capital into the hands of hostile captors. She didn’t like politics but she wasn’t an idiot. 

They rode for hours, and Jolenna’s bad leg grew increasingly sore. Still she kept her mouth shut. They passed a few rough buildings but did not stop until the sky became a dusty grey. The Hound turned Stranger off the main road and deep into the forest. Eventually, they came to a small grassy clearing, and the Hound reared Stranger to a halt.

“We’ll stop here to sleep,” the Hound said, dismounting Stranger with a grunt. “It’s not too far to the next inn, but asking for a bed first thing in the morning draws attention we can’t afford.”

Jolenna was surprised the Hound waited to help her down from the saddle. But he was on her left side, and after riding a horse for hours, there was no way she could even pretend to dismount from that angle without outrageous pain. 

“I have to get off on this side,” Jolenna muttered with a blush, as she swung her good leg to join her bad one.

“Forgot about your damn leg,” the Hound said, joining her on Stranger’s other side. Despite the curse, he didn’t sound annoyed. He put both hands on her hips and lifted her from the horse.

Her right leg collapsed when she put slight weight onto it, but she didn’t fall. The Hound hadn’t released her and gripped her waist tighter when Jolenna clung to his thick arms.

Neither of them said a word as the Hound shifted Jolenna so that she was flush against his side, leaning into him heavily as she got her bearings. They managed a few steps before the Hound mumbled a curse and scooped Jolenna in his arms bridal style. She yelped, and he told her to shut up while he carried her to a soft spot of grass and laid her there.

“You could have warned me!” Jolenna hissed at the Hound, as he went to secure the horse and retrieve their bags.

“It was easier for both of us,” he replied.

“It hurts to be grabbed like that!” Jolenna said, and she could feel her face reddening. It was embarrassing enough to need help walking, but no one had ever lifted her so brazenly before.

The Hound paused on his way back to her and frowned. “I’m sorry for that then. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Next time?” Jolenna squawked.

“Aye, if your leg gives out again before we reach the next inn, I’m not arsing around being your fucking cane.” The Hound winced at the language he used in front of a lady but recovered quickly, his face hardening. Jolenna would have laughed if she weren’t so mortified and in pain.

“If we’re as near as you say to this inn then it won’t be your problem for much longer,” Jolenna said stiffly.

The Hound rolled his eyes and settled into a seated position, eyes pointed toward the road. “Get some sleep, girl.”

Jolenna tensed. “What about you?”

The Hound glared at her. “I’m not going to kill you, Marbrand.”

Jolenna would be lying if she said the thought didn’t cross her mind, but she frowned. “I won’t fall asleep straight away because of my leg. You’re the one who fought in a battle today. You sleep. I’ll keep watch and wake you in a few hours.”

The Hound’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have a weapon?”

“No,” Jolenna allowed.

The Hound sighed and released a strap on his leg. He tossed the harness to her. “Here.”

Jolenna scrambled to retrieve it and saw it was a sheath, she tugged the handle to reveal the blade of a dagger.

“You know how to use that, girl?”

“It seems fairly straight forward,” Jolenna said.

“That’s good enough for tonight,” the Hound replied and he flopped onto his back, eyes closed.

Jolenna stared at him until his breathing slowed to an even rhythm. Eventually, she strapped the dagger to her own leg – the one that wasn’t throbbing – and turned her eyes toward the road. She kept her ears peeled for signs of others in the woods with them but heard nothing as the sky turned from grey to blue. She expected the Hound to snore or drool or some other odorous behavior in his slumber, but he laid still, eyes and mouth shut, and if his chest didn’t rise and fall, she would have believed he was dead.

A few hours later, Jolenna still felt wide awake, but she figured she should take her turn at sleeping. She called his name, and the Hound awoke at once, calm and collected and ready to start his watch. It was irritating – who was that functional first thing after waking? But she lay down and closed her eyes anyway. Her thoughts strayed to her brother in the Blackwater and her father in enemy hands in Ashemark, but the grass was softer behind her head than she would have guessed. Sleep found her after all.

Before long, Jolenna gasped back to consciousness at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder.

“Fucking hell, you’re terrifying when you wake up.”

Jolenna blinked several times before she recognized the giant man in front of her was the Hound and that she had chosen to lay down in the grass beside him of her own accord.

“I suppose I’m lucky you only breathed like you’re on the brink of death. You could have stabbed me, and it would have been my own fault for arming you.”

Rather than dignify that with a response, Jolenna sat up, stretching her legs. The right one was always stiff when she first woke up, but it was less mobile than usual after the stress of riding the horse yesterday. The Hound tossed a bit of bread and a canteen at her, and she realized she was starving.

“We’ll eat again at the inn. We should get there around sundown.”

Jolenna hummed in acknowledgement between bites and, with a glance at the sky, was surprised it was past midday. It wasn’t long before the Hound urged her to her feet and toward the horse. He let her drag her stiff leg as she walked toward Stranger on her own, and she didn’t even tense when he lifted her onto the horse.

They stayed off of the Kingsroad as they rode for the next few hours. The trees cast long shadows under a pinkened sky by the time they arrived at the small inn. 

“You’ll want a room for the night before you go wherever it is your going,” the Hound said as they tied up Stranger and headed inside. “And keep that hood up.”

“You aren’t getting a room?” Jolenna asked before she could stop herself.

“There’ll be a bed down the road that’ll keep quiet and provide more entertainment than they’d offer here.”

Jolenna opened her mouth and then shut it quickly before the ridiculous question escaped her lips. A brothel. Of course. The Hound was as much of a scoundrel as any other man. She should be grateful he hadn’t made a pass at her.

She could feel her face was still pink when she met the innkeeper at his desk to request a room. The Hound strode past her to an empty table, already demanding ale from the serving girl. Once she secured her room key, and assured the innkeeper three times that she would be occupying the bed alone, she joined the Hound at his table.

The Hound froze with his tankard at his lips and then brought it down with a scowl. “You shouldn’t have sat near me, girl,” he said in a rumbling, low voice. “I draw a good many eyes with a face like this.”

Jolenna shrugged. “I haven’t paid you yet.” She slipped two rings from her fingers and held her fist toward him. After a beat, he offered his palm, and she dropped the rings.

“Rubies in both,” Jolenna added softly. Most of her jewelry was steeped in rubies thanks to her house sigil: a tree on fire. “Thank you for helping me escape. For helping me get home.”

The Hound didn’t answer for a moment as he pocketed the jewelry. Then he said, “You’re not going home.”

Jolenna blinked. “Of course, I am. Where else would I be going?”

“Hell, if I know, but it isn’t Ashemark.” The Hound leaned across the table toward her. “You know damn well Robb Stark has taken your home. You’re not someone who’s walking toward a cage after leaving the likes of King’s Landing.”

Jolenna stuck her chin out but held her tongue as the serving girl placed two bowls of stew in front of them. Once she was gone, she hissed, “Why do you care where I’m going?”

The Hound took a few spoonfuls of stew before answering. “I don’t. I just want to make sure you’re not going where I’m going.”

Jolenna hesitated before answering truthfully. “Across the Narrow Sea. To Bravos.” She had been thinking about it for hours now and felt even more sure now that she said the words aloud.

“Like hell you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not going there. I’m going there.”

“I don’t care if you’re going there. It’s not like we’re going together.”

“If we’re going the same way, we’re going to run into each other. That can’t happen.”

“And it probably won’t happen.”

“With my fucking luck it will. What the hell are you going to do in Bravos?”

“I… want to work for the Iron Bank.” Jolenna glared daggers at the man in front of her, daring him to laugh.

“They’ll never let a woman, let alone a foreign woman, anywhere near the Iron Bank,” the Hound said with his eyes narrowed. “No matter how good at numbers you are.”

Jolenna flushed. She wondered how he knew that she was good with numbers and that it was the skill she was most proud of. “You don’t know that.”

“Everyone knows that.”

“They let Lord Varys into the small council.”

The Hound rolled his eyes at the mention of the infamous eunuch. “Are you a Spider now, girl? Have you got little birds chirping secrets for you that you can sell your way into the coin purse that runs the world? Make them forget you don’t have a cock? Besides, Essos is not Westeros.”

“What do you know about it?”

“More than you.”

They scowled at each other across the table. “You just don’t want me to go to the same place as you. Why do you want to go to Bravos anyway?”

“None of your business,” the Hound growled.

“It’s a long road to Bravos, and a big city once we get there. Plenty of room for us both.”

“I’m telling you how the world works, girl,” the Hound said, finishing his stew with a sigh. “There are few paths for a woman on her own. You’d be safest going back to the Red Keep. And you don’t have to tell me how mad that is to suggest. I’ve lived in that viper’s pit longer than you have.”

Jolenna stared into her bowl. The Hound had a point: was there a real threat to her life in King’s Landing? Maybe she would marry Tyrion Lannister, if he survived the Battle of Blackwater. He was the Hand of the King though – he wouldn’t be able to leave King’s Landing. But maybe someday they could go to Casterly Rock, away from the politics. Could she be a lord’s wife? Help to run a household? Perhaps. But could she be a Lannister’s wife? She shuddered. Tyrion was not the worst man she’d met, and he was a decent conversationalist when he wasn’t drowning in wine, but she wanted no part of his lifestyle. The quid pro quos, the backhanded maneuvers… she didn’t know Tyrion well but she could tell that he thrived in that type of chaos. If that was her safest option, Jolenna didn’t want safe.

The Hound’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and Jolenna realized she said that last thought out loud. She blushed and finished her stew until the Hound spoke.

“And how do you intend to get to Bravos?”

Jolenna kept her gaze at her empty bowl. “I’ll pay someone to escort me to the nearest port and then I’ll pay for passage on a ship across the Narrow Sea.”

The Hound winced and passed a hand over his scarred face. “The nearest port, she says. Girl, how quickly do you think your absence will be missed in King’s Landing?”

Jolenna blinked. “Well, if King’s Landing has fallen, then—”

“King’s Landing hasn’t fallen.”

Jolenna forgot to breathe for a moment. “How do you know? I thought you said—”

“You overhear a conversation and make assumptions, girl. That’s dangerous business. I didn’t leave because the battle was lost, though it did look bleak. You ought to refine your eavesdropping habit. This whole inn has been talking about the battle. How Tywin Lannister rode in at the last minute with the might of the bannermen of the Reach to wipe out Stannis’s army. So now that order is righted, where does that leave you?”

Jolenna blinked several more times. “They might have already noticed I’m gone.”

“Might,” the Hound scoffed. “And she wants to go to the nearest port for a ship, as if that’s not the first place they’ll look.”

Jolenna sank lower in her chair. “Surely I’m not that valuable.”

“A highborn lady alone would be worth searching for. A lady almost-betrothed to the brother of the Queen Regent, even if he is a little shit, is going to raise more alarms. The brother of said lady, who happens to be a knight, will certainly search all seven hells for his sister for the family honor alone, even if they weren’t close.”

Jolenna swallowed, wondering how the Hound knew the status of her relationship with Addam. “I’m going back to King’s Landing, aren’t I?”

“You should,” the Hound nodded. He took a deep breath. “But you don’t have to.”

Jolenna felt light-headed. “What do you mean?”

The Hound groaned. “You want to go to Bravos, I’ll take you to fucking Bravos, since I’m going there anyway.”

“I thought you loathed the idea of running into me there.” 

“If I don’t help you, you’ll never make it. You think you offer a stranger some jewelry and they’ll take you where you want to go, no strings attached? No robberies? Or worse?”

Jolenna stared at the Hound. Apparently for too long because he scowled again. “Do you want to go or not? Your brother is a good fighter. I may change my mind about having a bastard like him chasing after me.”

“Y-yes,” Jolenna stammered.

“Fine,” the Hound grunted. He dropped some coins on the table and stood. “I’ll collect you in the morning. Enjoy your feather bed. It’ll be the last one you’ll have for a long while.”

Jolenna sat in shock in her chair for a long moment before she noticed the Hound paid for her stew too. She limped her way to her small room, and immediately felt the Hound’s exaggeration of beds stuffed with feathers. Jolenna guessed it was straw, and though the sun was long set, she laid awake. In her defense, she had slept until midday. 

She wondered why she trusted the Hound so much. He could easily overpower her with his height alone, plus the solid muscle that covered his entire body. More often than not, he was scowling, and his grey eyes were sharp with anger. And his scar… well, it wasn’t pretty, but she’d gotten used to it on his face in her first few weeks in King’s Landing. Still, there was something honest about the man, something she guessed Sansa Stark saw too. 

“You won’t hurt me,” Sansa told him. And he agreed. That certainty shouldn’t be extended to other people, yet Jolenna felt it did. At least to her. A sinking part of her knew that with this logic, he wasn’t lying about her doomed plans to join the Iron Bank either. But that was something she wouldn’t think about yet. She had to get to Bravos first.


End file.
